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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29338680">Changes of State</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sword_Kallya/pseuds/Sword_Kallya'>Sword_Kallya</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Vampire AU [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Vampire, Babs is there for like a hot sec and she gives Bruce shit and I love her, Background Tim Drake/Conner Kent, Bad Parent Jack Drake, Blood Drinking, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Child Abuse, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Electrocution, Gen, It is a vamp au..., Jack Drake's A+ parenting, Jason Todd is a vampire, Jason Todd is the Red Hood, Miscommunication, Muzzles, Panic Attacks, Tim Drake is Robin</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 12:20:40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,263</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29338680</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sword_Kallya/pseuds/Sword_Kallya</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An extension of Iselsis's vampire AU. Post-the Titans Tower incident, Tim goes missing. His family is determined to find him.</p><p>They're surprised by what they find.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Tim Drake &amp; Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake &amp; Dick Grayson, Tim Drake &amp; Jason Todd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Vampire AU [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2131410</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>82</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>724</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. a stranger, in a dark place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">


        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28749477">Tidal Wave</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/iselsis/pseuds/iselsis">iselsis</a>.
        </li>
        <li>
            Inspired by

            <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28965486">Blood Ties</a> by <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/iselsis/pseuds/iselsis">iselsis</a>.
        </li>

    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fic and chapter titles taken from "What You Need to be Warm" by Neil Gaiman. You read the full text or listen to the author read it <a href="https://www.brainpickings.org/2020/01/08/what-you-need-to-be-warm-neil-gaiman/">here</a></p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bruce gripped the Batmobile’s steering wheel and let himself have one moment. Just one, cowl biting into his forehead where it pressed against the vinyl-covered metal, knuckles ghost-white under black gauntlets. He breathed in time to the beeping of his watch. If he went over the case details while he did it, it would even be a <em>productive</em> moment.</p><p>01:36:24. The alarm in his gauntlet computer went off. Two weeks down to the millisecond since anyone had seen Tim Drake. Two weeks since a battered, exhausted, victorious Robin had filed his report, checked in on the teens currently in residence at Mount Justice, changed out of his uniform, kissed his boyfriend goodnight, and zetaed to Gotham. Two weeks since Tim had left the zeta tube camera field to catch a bus home.</p><p>Somewhere on that ride home, Tim had disappeared. The Drakes’ housekeeper swore up, down, and sideways that Tim had never made it to Bristol, but that was the only information they had. None of Gotham’s many, many buses had failed to reach their destination that night. None of Tim’s financials had come up on Oracle’s searches – which wasn’t a surprise. After half a decade of sneaking out into Gotham alone, Tim habitually paid for transportation in cash. Questioning the bus drivers wouldn’t get them anywhere – there was no shortage of bruised, dark-haired teenagers in Gotham. None of the gangs suddenly had something big to sell. None of the Rogues Gallery had let slip even a whisper about a kidnapped or murdered Robin.</p><p>One week in, and Bruce Wayne had visited Jack Drake to ask after his former charge. Jack had told Bruce that Tim had gone to visit his friend Sebastian Ives in Maine. Dick had been listening in on comms and had thankfully immediately jumped into research. Sebastian Ives was friends with Tim, and did live in Maine, but Tim wasn’t staying with him. The last time Ives had heard from Tim was six hours before the disappearance, when Tim had had to stop discussing exploitable glitches in Shadow of Mordor for a “personal emergency.” Ives thought this was code for “my boyfriend wants to have sex.” Given the timing, it was far more likely to be “I have to go fight magical constructs,” but Ives didn’t need to know that. Dick had promised to keep Ives updated on the search.</p><p>The important information was that Jack Drake was lying about his son’s whereabouts. Batman, Nightwing, and Red Hood had gone over Drake Manor with a fine-toothed comb as soon as they reasonably could, but the search had turned up little of interest. A very few spots of blood that matched Tim’s DNA, easily explained by the wounds he’d received earlier that day. Some of Robin’s spare gear, which they had promptly packed up to return to the Batcave. They’d also found a lockbox containing what Jason referred to as Tim’s “stalker stash,” photos of Batman and Robin (as well as several of Nightwing and Red Hood. Old habits died hard, apparently), which they had also removed, in case Jack Drake suddenly decided to search through his son’s things.</p><p>Even with no signs of violence, Dick and Jason had practically had to drag Bruce out the door before the housekeeper could catch them.</p><p>Once hidden in the treeline, an argument had blown up. Jason wanted to interrogate the housekeeper. Dick argued that the woman who had been the closest thing Tim had to a consistent caretaker probably hadn’t participated in his disappearance. Jason retorted that the lady who actively participated in his neglect for over a decade probably didn’t give a shit about his health and safety. Bruce <em>also</em> wanted to interrogate the housekeeper, but they couldn’t risk tipping off Jack Drake if it did turn out that he was hurting Tim. They had to leave.</p><p>They had <em>nothing.</em> Bruce thumped his head against the steering wheel one more time. Two weeks of investigation, and they were no closer to finding Tim than when they started.</p><p>The gauntlet computer beeped again. Incoming call. Clark. Bruce let it through. “Please tell me you’ve found something.”</p><p>“I’m so sorry,” Clark said. “I’ve flown over Gotham three times. I can’t hear his heartbeat anywhere.”</p><p>Bruce makes a noise he didn’t know he was capable of, a cracking sound of heartbreak. He doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t need to.</p><p>“I’ll get Conner to fly over as well,” Clark said. “He knows Tim better than I do; he might be able to catch something I couldn’t. If… in the meantime, I could take a look at some of his father’s other houses?”</p><p>“That’s… a good idea.” Bruce’s voice was rough, like he’d been crying, but Clark doesn’t mention it. “I’ll have Oracle send you a list.”</p><p>“All right.” Clark paused, like he was going to say something else, but thought better of it. “Take care of yourself, Bruce.”</p><p>As soon as he signed off, Bruce missed the warmth of his voice.</p><p>The next alert came from the Batmobile computer. Oracle rarely ever bothered with allowing the person she was talking to the nicety of actually letting the call go through. “Batman.”</p><p>Bruce let himself have one more breath, ignoring the moisture collecting under the cowl. “What is it?”</p><p>“I’ve got something interesting in Drake’s financials,” she said. Bruce sat forward. “He’s been buying up vampire-hunting gear. Silver chains, spelled charms, the works. He’s been trying to keep it on the down low, which is why we’re only finding out about this now.”</p><p>“<em>Why</em> would he – when was this?”</p><p>“Starts the day Robin disappeared,” Oracle replied grimly. “Now that I’m in his encrypted files, there’s a <em>lot</em> of stuff in the past two weeks. Orders for blood bags too, and… <em>oooh.”</em> There was a beep as files downloaded to his gauntlet computer. “Mr. Drake has been invited to that hunter gathering, you know the one that we’re keeping an eye on because it’s sketch as all hell? Apparently, he has a “family heirloom” he wants to sell, and it’s being auctioned off.”</p><p>That wasn’t actually a very unusual thing for a rich family – Bruce himself had rediscovered a handful of Wayne family heirlooms with protective enchantments and blessings. Given his night work, he kept all of them, but selling one off to hunters wasn’t uncommon. Still, something about the idea was bothering him. “When’s the meeting?”</p><p>“Tomorrow night.” Oracle rattled off an address in the Bowery. <em>Not</em> the kind of place that a respectable businessman like Jack Drake would be caught near. A perfect excuse for Batman to question him.</p><p>“Send me anything you can find,” he ordered. Two streets over, shouts, screams, and gunfire erupted.</p><p>Much as Bruce hated himself for it, Tim would have to wait.</p>
<hr/><p>Tim was <em>hungry.</em></p><p>He pulled helplessly at the silver handcuff holding his right hand to the roof of the cage. The last blood bag had been so long ago – he didn’t know how long, but <em>long.</em> He needed food.</p><p>Tim tongued at his fangs. Not food. <em>Blood.</em> Because he was a vampire now.</p><p>And also, apparently, an <em>idiot.</em> He’d been bitten by vampires before. Pretty much every vigilante had, except for ones like Superman, who were invulnerable.</p><p>Superman, or Superboy. <em>Kon.</em> Tim missed Kon.</p><p>But Tim knew how to handle a turning bite. Pack it with blessed salt, douse it with silver chloride, and you were in pain but good to go. Except Tim hadn’t noticed the bite in the wake of his other injuries. He’d just wanted to go home and <em>sleep,</em> so he hadn’t checked as closely as he should have.</p><p>Tim had woken up to his skin burning in sunlight, and his dad had – his dad –</p><p>There was a thud of heavy footsteps on the stairs. Tim flinched, frantically shielding his eyes with his free hand. As soon as he opened the lock, his dad would flick on the lights, which would be hell to eyes left in darkness for hours or days on end.</p><p>Even behind his arm and through closed eyelids, the bright fluorescent lights <em>burned.</em></p><p>Jack Drake snarled, slamming on the silver-chased bars. “Look at me, <em>vampire.”</em></p><p>Tim forced himself to open his eyes. He would not cry. He <em>would not</em> cry. His dad wouldn’t like it, and if he got angry, he might not let Tim eat, and Tim was <em>so hungry.</em></p><p>The look in his dad’s eyes was pretty angry anyway. Tim flinched at the fury and disgust, dropping his gaze. “I’m, ‘m sorry.”</p><p>His dad didn’t seem convinced. Tim watched buffed black dress shoes pace closer. On his belt, Jack’s self-defense taser bounced against his leg. That taser could drop a 180-pound adult. Tim had never seen him carry it openly before… this. His dad was <em>afraid</em> of him now.</p><p>Somehow, that hurt worse than the bite of the actual taser had.</p><p>“Time to feed the beast,” Jack muttered. Tim flinched again but didn’t speak up. He had learned not to. He was also kind of regretting researching the best self-defense gear for his dad.</p><p>Then his dad pulled a blood bag from the minifridge, and Tim couldn’t focus on anything else. His mouth flooded with saliva. He shoved himself up against the bars, not caring about the burn of the silver or the pain of twisting his wrist awkwardly. He <em>needed</em> that blood. He needed it so badly it <em>physically hurt.</em></p><p>When Jack – his <em>dad</em> – turned back around, there was fear in his eyes. He pulled the taser. Tim didn’t – couldn’t – care. He couldn’t take his eyes off the blood bag.</p><p>“Back up,” Jack ordered, taser held out in front of him.</p><p>Tim didn’t move. He licked his lips, fangs gleaming in the fluorescent lights.</p><p>“Back <em>up!”</em> Jack shouted. He discharged the taser – a warning shot. The scent of ozone filled the air.</p><p>Tim licked his lips again but didn’t move. “Puh-please.” Tears started to form, and he knew he shouldn’t, knew he didn’t have fluids to lose and his dad would just get even angrier, but the blood bag was so close he could practically <em>taste</em> it but still <em>so far away.</em> “Dad, <em>please.”</em></p><p>Tim didn’t register the rage that took over his father’s face. All he could see was the blood bag getting closer, until Tim could almost reach out and take it. He pushed his fingers through the bars–</p><p>Jack slammed the taser into the metal cage. Tim <em>howled,</em> electricity arcing through him from dozens of contact points. His vision went white. He collapsed, shaking, to the floor of the cage. “Never,” Jack hissed, “call me that again. <em>Never.”</em></p><p>“’M sorry,” Tim mumbled once he could speak again. “Sorry, ‘m sorry, please…” he was trembling, from aftershocks or hunger, he couldn’t tell. “Please, D – sir, pl-lease, ‘m so <em>h-hungry…”</em> Tim sobbed, but those few tears had been all the water left in his body. He had nothing left to cry.</p><p>“If you want it so bad, be a good monster and <em>back. up. </em>Or you get nothing at all.”</p><p>It was the hardest thing Tim had ever done. It was <em>torture.</em> But some way, somehow, he forced his fingers to unclench from the bars, his legs to unbend and scoot him back into the far corner. The whole time, his eyes never left the blood bag.</p><p>Once Tim was as far away as possible, Jack pushed the blood bag through the bars. Tim waited one long, agonizing moment for him to back away, eyes constantly flicking between his father and the food. When Jack was out of arm’s reach of the cage, he gave the slightest nod.</p><p>Tim <em>pounced.</em></p><p>When he had first been shoved down here, Tim would have pried the bag open like a human, using the pads of his fingers and covering his fangs so his father didn’t have to see him acting like a vampire. Now, days – weeks? – and far too few blood bags later, Tim couldn’t bring himself to care. He bit directly through the thin plastic, careful not to spill even a single drop of precious fluid. He moaned when the blood hit his tongue. So <em>good…</em></p><p>It could have been minutes or weeks until the blood was gone. Tim shredded the bag, shoving his tongue into the corners to lap up the last drops. He whimpered softly when he realized that it was all gone. He was <em>still hungry.</em> He looked up–</p><p>The disgust and horror on his father’s face almost made Tim puke the blood back up. He curled back up in the far corner, sick at heart. He felt like <em>trash.</em> How could he? He knew that his dad didn’t want to see him act like a vampire, he should have waited until his dad left to eat. It was just – Tim was still so hungry it hurt, even after the whole blood bag. He needed to not make his dad angry, but he needed blood too.</p><p>Jack snorted. “At least tomorrow night you won’t be my problem anymore.”</p><p>Tim blinked. “Wh–” his tongue felt awkward and slow after days and days of rarely speaking. “What happn’s tomorrow night?”</p><p>“There’s a hunter gathering. You’re being sold. <em>They’ll</em> deal with you, and good riddance.”</p><p>A <em>hunter– </em>Tim felt like a hand had reached into his chest and squeezed. If a hunter bought him, it would be as a test case. It would be more of this, blood bags that didn’t come nearly often enough, and silver chains and cages, maybe a cut with silver to keep him addicted and needy – “Sir, <em>please,</em> Tim begged. “Sell me to anyone else, please, just not a hunter!” It was more words in a row than Tim had said since his dad had thrown him down here, but he <em>had</em> to get this out, had to somehow convince his dad not to sell him into a slow, agonizing death. “Just – just sell me to someone else, or throw me out, you’ll never have to see me again, please just <em>don’t–”</em></p><p>“Shut <em>up!”</em> Jack snapped the taser threateningly. Tim’s mouth clicked shut so fast his fangs caught his lip and drew blood. “The auction is already set up,” Jack growled. “And leg you <em>go?</em> Let a <em>bloodsucking freak</em> out on the streets? When you killed someone, their blood would be on <em>my </em>hands. The hunters will know how to handle you.”</p><p>Jack turned towards the stairs. He was <em>leaving,</em> and the next time he came back it would be with whoever was buying Tim, and – Tim shoved himself up against the bars, reaching like he could pull his father to him with nothing but sheer desperation. <em>“Mom wouldn’t have let you do this!”</em></p><p>As soon as the words left his mouth, Tim knew they were a mistake.</p><p>Jack <em>stormed</em> over to the cage, taser out. Tim screamed when the first shock hit.</p><p>And the second. And the third.</p><p>By the time Jack was done, Tim had screamed himself hoarse. His spasms had opened the scabs around his wrist, and the torn cuff of his sweatshirt was soaked in blood.</p><p>Jack finally stepped back. <em>“Never,”</em> he spat, “mention my wife again. She’s not your mother. She didn’t give birth to a <em>monster.”</em></p><p>Tim’s only response was a low moan. He barely noticed when his father turned out the lights and locked the door, leaving him alone in the pitch black.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. from cold to warm</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tim is found!<br/>That should be the end of things. It isn't.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In the end, the Bats hadn't even had to invent a crisis to get a shot at Jack Drake. Two of the hunters — most of whom had multiple arrest warrants on their heads, for everything from thefts of silver to first-degree murder — had gotten into a disagreement that ended with shots fired. The Bats had already been staking out the place and had responded immediately. Nightwing and Red Hood were handling the main room, which left the perfect opportunity for Batman to corner Jack Drake.</p>
<p>Classics were best. Batman appeared out of the shadows directly in Jack's path. "Mr. Drake," he rumbled, "this is an unusual place for someone of your… position to be."</p>
<p>Bruce probably shouldn't have felt as gratified as he did when Jack stumbled backwards, clutching his chest. "<em>Batman!</em> Good lord, I thought you were one of those gun-toting lunatics!" He slumped against rough, smoke-stained brick, clearly relieved.</p>
<p>"Why are you here, Mr. Drake?" Bruce had to fight to keep the rage out of his voice. Jack didn't need to know that Batman was just as likely to throw him back to those gun-toting lunatics (one of them in particular) as he was to save his life. <em>Yet.</em></p>
<p>"I was… I was…" Jack gulped. "I recently came into possession of… something… that will be of far more use to a vampire hunter than it would ever be to me." He gave Bruce a look that was reminiscent of every used-car salesman on the planet. "Perhaps <em>you</em> would like a look?"</p>
<p>Bruce let the silence stretch for a long moment while debating his options. He would rather stick his hand in a fire than let Jack Drake sell him something, but whatever this was, it started immediately after Tim's disappearance. The chance of there being a connection was too high. "Show me," he ordered. He really hoped he wasn't going to regret this.</p>
<p>Jack beamed, starting up a sales pitch that Bruce tuned out. He'd heard hundreds of them, and they all said the same things. Jack led him back into the empty office building, and he kept a weather eye out — this could be a trap, or one of the two-bit hunters that were more like hitmen could have slipped through Nightwing and Red Hood's fingers — but no one bothered them as they passed through decaying halls.</p>
<p>Instead of the run-down auditorium the meeting was supposed to be held in, Jack went to a storeroom not far from where the back of the stage would be, if Bruce's memory was correct. He unlocked the door and gestured Bruce towards a large cube-shaped object in the middle of the room, covered by a drop sheet. After a pause for dramatic effect that clearly didn't get him the reaction he wanted, Jack pulled the cloth off.</p>
<p>Suddenly, all the unknowns in Drake's behavior made a sickening amount of sense.</p>
<p>Bruce suppressed the urge to vomit, because it was <em>Tim.</em> Tim, who now had the fangs of a vampire, but that wasn't important. Tim in a cage, Tim in the same sweatshirt and soft pants he'd been wearing when he left the zeta tube, now covered in grime and blood. His wrists were locked to the roof of the cage with handcuffs — his right shirt cuff was stiff with dried blood while the left was only scratched — <em>long-term removal of use of dominant hand,</em> Batman noted, while Bruce howled in the back of his mind <em>my Robin, my boy.</em> Tim's eyes were covered by a blindfold. Batman added <em>sensory deprivation</em> to his rapidly growing list while Bruce railed at the tear tracks cutting through the dirt on Tim's cheeks. There were noise-canceling headphones as well, just to ensure that Tim — the <em>kid —</em> was as disoriented as possible.</p>
<p>Worst of all was the silver-chased muzzle that pried Tim's jaws apart. Sapping his strength, removing his ability to defend himself with either fangs or words, and torturing him with the scent of all the living humans in the room at once.</p>
<p>It took every. <em>single.</em> ounce of self-control Bruce possessed, that he'd earned as Batman and in Nanda Parbat and kneeling in a pool of blood in a Park Row alleyway, not to step over and snap Jack Drake's neck.</p>
<p>Bruce paced around the cage as if inspecting the merchandise — even the thought of Tim as <em>merchandise</em> made him want to gag — while he tried desperately to think. <em>Basics,</em> he reminded himself as he forced his heart rate to slow. <em>What do you want? What do you need to get it?</em></p>
<p>He <em>wanted</em> Tim safe and home at the Manor. <em>Wayne</em> Manor. Tim was never setting foot in Drake Manor again if Bruce had anything to say in the matter. He also wanted Jack Drake in jail, preferably bruised. Possibly with a few broken bones. But if he took Jack to the cops now, Tim would have to be questioned. It might take hours before he could feel safe again. And Bruce wanted Tim home and safe more than he wanted Jack to hurt.</p>
<p>Slightly.</p>
<p>Slowly, a plan began to form. Even if Jack fled the city immediately afterwards — which he shouldn't, not if this went well — Batman could track him down easily. And never let it be said that Bruce Wayne wasn't willing to use his money to make his life easier. "Five thousand," he said abruptly cutting off Jack's repetitive monologue.</p>
<p>Jack jumped, clearly caught off guard by Batman actually bothering to speak to him. Once he registered the words, he started to bristle. "I was expecting at least ten—"</p>
<p>"There are plenty of armed idiots outside if you want to argue with them." Thirty more seconds, and he was giving up on <em>not</em> punching Jack Drake's face in.</p>
<p>Unfortunately, the coward flinched back at the threat. "I, I, of course." He frowned, hand clenched tight around the pocket that most likely held the key to the cage. Thank God for the tells of untrained idiots. "How were you planning on…?"</p>
<p><em>Businessmen,</em> Bruce nearly cursed aloud. Instead, he tapped on his comm. "Oracle. Transfer five thousand dollars to Jack Drake's account immediately."</p>
<p><em>"What?"</em> she snapped so loudly Bruce was momentarily afraid that Jack would hear her. "But what about the <em>auction —</em> we were going to question him about Robin!"</p>
<p>"I am aware," he growled. "It's being handled."</p>
<p>"Then <em>explain,</em> you emotionless trauma hoarder."</p>
<p>"I will <em>do so</em> when I return," he snarled. "Just transfer the funds, Oracle. And tell Agent A to prep medical."</p>
<p>Oracle's soft snarl was nearly covered by the rhythmic clicking of her keyboard. "You better. I have Hampsterdance mp3s and I know how to use them." A beep came down her line, which was echoed by Jack's cellphone. "Transfer complete. Agent A says he could prep better if he knew what he'd be dealing with."</p>
<p>"I'll deal with that on the way back," Bruce promised. He turned back to Jack Drake. <em>"</em><em>Key."</em></p>
<p>The man surrendered it, shaking and pale. "I'd suggest you get out of here, Mr. Drake," Batman growled. "This area isn't safe."<em> Not from me.</em></p>
<p>"Of-of course. Thank you." A quick bob of his head and Jack was gone. Good <em>fucking</em> riddance. Bruce wanted to pull Tim out of the cage right then, but the chance that Jack or one of the hunters might see him treating Tim kindly and put the pieces together was just too great. Batman couldn't be seen to act like Tim was a victim. <em>Yet.</em> There would be time for that. So, Bruce made sure to act with no particular care or haste when he unlocked the cage, no matter how much it hurt him. When he pulled Tim out, his hands were clinical, not caring.</p>
<p>Tim's terrified whimper broke his heart.</p>
<p>Bruce walked Tim carefully down the halls, the distance between them and the Batmobile suddenly seeming so much longer. He reminded himself that every hunter who saw him apparently buy a vampire was a hunter who wouldn't think to watch their behavior in front of him later. Still, the way Tim stumbled and tugged at his grip made Bruce feel sick to his stomach.</p>
<p>Two more doors, and it was a straight shot between them and the car. Bruce clicked his comm back on. "Nightwing, Hood. I need you at the Batmobile immediately."</p>
<p>There was a thud and a <em>zap</em> that must have come from Nightwing's line. "Did we get Drake? Because interrogations have never been my favorite thing."</p>
<p>"No, we didn't, because I just saw him <em>leaving,"</em> Hood's mechanized snarl crackled. "I'm going after him."</p>
<p>"Hood, do <em>not!"</em> Bruce snapped. "I need you here."</p>
<p>"Like fuck I'm just letting our best lead on Robin <em>get away—"</em></p>
<p>"That is <em>why</em> I need you at the Batmobile." <em>He's going to need you,</em> Bruce couldn't say where an enemy might hear. Tim let out a pathetic whine and Bruce grit his teeth. One more door, and they would be out of the building. One more door.</p>
<p>"Did you find him?" Nightwing asked, startled.</p>
<p>
  <em>"Yes."</em>
</p>
<p><em>"Christ,</em> B, you couldn't have just led with that?" The sound of Hood's rougher grapple line covered a quick flurry of cursing. "I'll be there in two."</p>
<p>"One," Nightwing added. "Have you told Agent A yet?"</p>
<p>"Asked him to prep medical." And finally, <em>finally,</em> they were at the car. Bruce swept Tim up bodily, careful of joints that must be stiff after so long in the same position, and placed him in the backseat. The terrified squeak Tim made was heartbreaking, but with Tim in the car Bruce could close the door behind them.</p>
<p>And then, behind all the privacy Batman and Oracle could design, he could tug off the headphones, slit the blindfold and the muzzle straps with a batarang, and pull off his own cowl. "Tim? Tim, it's all right. You're safe now."</p>
<p>Tim blinked up at him, blue eyes shining with tears."Bruce?"</p>
<p>"Yes, it's me." Bruce was prepared for crying, for fury, for demands of <em>why did you wait so long to untie me</em> and <em>why didn't you find me sooner?</em></p>
<p>He <em>wasn't</em> prepared for Tim to immediately throw himself as far from Bruce as the cramped space would allow, shoving the corner of his hoodie into his mouth. "Tim? Tim, it's okay, you're safe." He reached out—</p>
<p>Tim cringed back. "Don't touch me!"</p>
<p>Bruce's heart shattered in his chest.</p>
<hr/>
<p>Tim shoved himself as far away from Bruce and his powerful, steady, <em>human</em> heartbeat as he could. This was everything Tim had dreamed would happen, in the dark and the cage — all the best dreams, and the worst nightmares. Bruce was here, he had saved him, he had come for him just like he said he would—</p>
<p>But Bruce was <em>warm </em>and <em>human</em> and Tim was still <em>so hungry</em> — there weren't bars or cages keeping him from hurting Bruce, only his own will. And Tim wasn't strong enough.</p>
<p>"Tim, kiddo," and oh no, that was the upset Bruce voice. "I'm not going to touch you without your permission, but we need to know if you're hurt. Could Alfred or Leslie look at you?" Bruce sat back, hands in the air where Tim could see them <em>not</em> moving towards him. That was good. Tim viciously squashed the part of him that wanted those strong arms to hold him. What if Tim lost it while Bruce was hugging him and bit him? Bruce wasn't wearing the cowl right now; what if he got his <em>jugular?</em> Tim couldn't let that happen! Bruce was safer over there, where he'd have warning if Tim attacked him.</p>
<p>But if he got Alfred or Leslie, Tim could hurt them <em>too.</em> He whimpered, shoving himself into a smaller ball. "You <em>can't!"</em></p>
<p>Tim could hear the shudder — fearful? angry? — as Bruce took a calming breath. "Okay. It's okay, that's fine. Can you tell me if there's anything serious wrong? We can check you over once you feel safe."</p>
<p>Tim shook his head rapidly behind his hands. Bruce didn't <em>get it,</em> which meant that Tim had to explain. Explain that he was a monster now. Tim would rather do anything else, but he couldn't afford to hurt any of the Bats. They were the only people he had <em>left</em> after his dad— Tim let out a broken sob. "I can't. I'm. I'm not hurt, I don't think."</p>
<p>"Okay," and that was <em>relief</em> in Bruce's voice. "That's good. That's <em>great."</em> He made a familiar aborted move, like he was listening to something Tim couldn't hear — probably his comm. "Dick and Jason are outside. Is it okay if they come in?"</p>
<p>Tim shuddered. <em>Three</em> heartbeats, all so close? He didn't think he could handle it. He'd definitely attack someone.</p>
<p>"He doesn't want more people right now," Bruce said into his comm. He looked Tim over with a weather eye born of raising multiple teenage boys to adulthood. "Are you hungry?"</p>
<p>And then he <em>started tugging off his gauntlet.</em></p>
<p>Tim let out a horrified <em>screech</em> as he flew across the backseat. He grabbed the hem of the gauntlet, hissing at the silver burn, and <em>yanked</em> it back up, covering the vulnerable artery beneath. "You <em>can't,"</em> he gasped, staring up into Bruce's startled face. "You can't, please, I'll hurt you, I <em>don't want to hurt you!"</em> Tim couldn't hurt Bruce. If <em>Bruce</em> threw him out, he would <em>die.</em></p>
<p>Of course, Bruce might throw him out just for being a vampire, but hurting him would just make it worse.</p>
<p>Vaguely, the part of Tim that could never stop analyzing noted that he was hyperventilating.</p>
<p>There were hands on him then, and words, so many words, but Tim couldn't hear them over the rush of blood in someone else's veins. Warm flesh pressed to his lips, but Tim turned his head away. He wasn't a monster; he could prove it. He wouldn't bite, not even when the blood was fresh and pulsing and <em>there</em> — Tim forced his face into his shoulder. He could be a good monster. He wouldn't bite.</p>
<p>The sound he made when the blood got further away was half sigh of relief and half sob of desperation.</p>
<p>With the blood gone, though, he could hear some of the words flying around him. He focused hard, trying to catch them.</p>
<p>"Panic attack—"</p>
<p>"—tried to get him to drink, and this—"</p>
<p>"—scrawny, did they not give him—"</p>
<p>"—feral?"</p>
<p>"—still wouldn't—"</p>
<p>"—human? If not—"</p>
<p>There was a shuffling sound, and Tim was being moved. He let himself go limp, allowing them to arrange him however they wanted. He could be a good monster. He <em>could.</em></p>
<p>Even with all his determination, when cold metal cut off the scent of fresh blood, he couldn't help but sob.</p>
<p>However, it helped clear the crushing tightness in his chest a little bit, just enough for him to gasp in a few breaths. The cool, callused fingers stroking through his hair helped too, even with the little sparks of pain where they caught on tangles. Eventually, Tim had enough breath back to gasp out, "'M a good monster, can be, <em>please!"</em></p>
<p>The stroking in his hair stuttered, and Tim braced for the taser shock.</p>
<p>It never came. Instead, the hand kept going, and a voice said "Okay, that's okay. You're a good monster, alright? Good monster."</p>
<p>They stayed like that for several more minutes while Tim tried to remember how to breathe. The tightness in his chest loosened but didn't really go away. Even so, he was more aware — especially of the person holding him. By the shape of the armor— "J'son?"</p>
<p>"Heya, baby bird. Back with us?" It <em>was</em> Jason, cool skin and growly voice and all. Tim relaxed slightly. Jason was a vampire. He couldn't bleed to death.</p>
<p>"Wha happ'n?" Tim whined softly when Jason stopped petting his hair, then blushed when he chuckled. The hand returned, though, which was what Tim really cared about.</p>
<p>"You freaked out on us. B tried to get you to feed and you wouldn't, not even when Dick put his wrist up against your mouth." Jason's arms tightened around him. "You scared the frick out of us, Timbit. We thought you'd gone feral for a little while, but you just wouldn't drink."</p>
<p>Tim shrank down as far as Jason's arms would allow. "Good monsters don't bite."</p>
<p>There was a quick breath, and Jason <em>squeezed</em> Tim, just for a second. "Your dad tell you that?" he asked, voice rough.</p>
<p>"Mm-hmm." Tim nodded, face mostly buried in the crook of Jason's elbow.</p>
<p>"I… Okay, we can work on that later. But…Timmers, you gotta drink, or you really will go feral. And then we'd have to give you blood bags, and Doc Thompkins doesn't wanna do that in case something happens, and your system can't handle it. So, can you please feed, so everyone can quit worrying so much?"</p>
<p>Tim squirmed, trying to get free, but Jason wasn't letting him go anywhere. "I <em>can't."</em></p>
<p>Jason's voice was startlingly free of anger when he asked, "Why not?"</p>
<p>"'Ll hurt you."</p>
<p>"Timmy, I'm a vampire. I can't bleed to death."</p>
<p>"But what if I take too much?" Tim started shaking in Jason's arms. "What if I take too much and you go feral and you hurt somebody? It would be my fault!"</p>
<p>"Oh, shh, shh, baby bird, no." Jason rocked him as Tim started to gasp for air again. "That's not gonna happen, Timbit, I promise."</p>
<p>"But what if — what if—" Tim knew how dangerous Jason was when feral. He couldn't be the cause of that. He'd rather die than make that happen to someone else. He'd rather starve to death.</p>
<p>"I… you know what? That's fair. I need you to listen to me, Timbo, 'cause this is what we're gonna do." Jason turned Tim around so he could look the other Robin straight in the eyes. Not only had he taken his helmet off, but he had also pulled off his mask. There wasn't any anger or fear in those green eyes. Tim didn't know how long it had been since he'd seen someone look at him with such care. "Once I start feeling dizzy, I'm gonna pull you off me, okay? And if either of us goes feral, B and Dick are standing right outside. They can lock us in here with a bunch of blood bags, and everything will be just fine. How's that for a plan?"</p>
<p>Tim should say no. He needed to be good, so Bruce wouldn't throw him out or kill him or sell him. If he said no, Jason would give him a blood bag, or maybe even two, and he would have proved that he wouldn't bite…</p>
<p>But Jason was offering. And his blood would be so much more filling than the bags. And his plan… that could <em>work.</em> Bruce and Dick were the best vampire hunters in the world. If they had warning, they could stop him. "I… So, I can drink from you? And then you drink from someone else? So, no one gets hurt?"</p>
<p>Tim risked a look up towards Jason's face, but the older vampire didn't look angry. He looked <em>sad.</em> "Sure thing, Timbo. You gonna be okay to feed now, or is there something else we need to talk through first?"</p>
<p>Tim ducked his head. "I'm, I'm okay. We can do it now." The other thing wasn't a real problem, not like the possibility of him going feral. This was just Tim being bad at being a vampire. He started to shake again.</p>
<p>"Hey. <em>Hey.</em> Timmers. <em>Tim.</em> Can you look at me?"</p>
<p>Nervously, Tim raised his head to meet Jason's eyes.</p>
<p>"Good. You're doing great, buddy. Now, you can just nod or shake your head, but I need you to answer this. Have you fed off anything but blood bags before?"</p>
<p>Tim shook his head quickly, then ducked it again. God. He wasn't even any good at being a vampire. This was supposed to be <em>instinct.</em> What good was a vampire who didn't know how to feed off a human?</p>
<p>"Okay, Timbit, I need you not to freak out on me. I can teach you to feed off someone without hurting them. Will that be okay? Or do you need more time?"</p>
<p>Tim knew he could say no, and Jason would back off. But this would be a <em>stupid</em> reason not to drink. He had to learn sometime. "I can do it."</p>
<p>"If you're sure." Jason tugged off one of his gauntlets, watching Tim carefully the whole time. "So, the main thing you gotta remember is to pull your fangs back out before you start drinking, otherwise you might rip something really important." He stretched out his wrist, bare and golden in the faint light from the flickering streetlamp.</p>
<p>Tim slowly, carefully, reached out to take Jason's hand. One more glance upwards to make sure Jason hadn't changed his mind, and he bared his fangs—</p>
<p>"Whoa, hey!" One large palm caught Tim's forehead before he could bite. Tim whimpered, terrified. It had been a test and he had <em>failed,</em> now Jason knew he couldn't resist biting and he would tell Bruce and—</p>
<p>"Oh shh, no, you're not in trouble." Large arms wrapped around him and Tim braced for pain, he knew how much Jason was capable of hurting—</p>
<p>He was being hugged?</p>
<p>"It's okay," Jason murmured into his ear. "You didn't do anything wrong, Timbit, I promise. You just skipped a step. It's my fault, I knew you were new to this, I should have remembered to tell you."</p>
<p>Face smushed against the red bat on Jason's chest plate, Tim made a questioning noise.</p>
<p>"You're not in trouble," Jason reassured him. "I promise, baby bird, I'm not mad at you. Once you're ready, we can try again." Jason was stroking his hair again, petting him like a cat.</p>
<p>Maybe he really wasn't mad? "Wh'd I mess up?"</p>
<p>"You're supposed to lick the bite site first, so it goes numb."</p>
<p>"Huh?" Why would licking the bite site make it numb? If anything, that should make it more sensitive.</p>
<p>A chuckle rumbled against Tim's ear. "Timmers. Timbit. Timmy Timmy Timbo. Did you forget that you have venom now?"</p>
<p>Tim blinked, remembering Bruce's lessons on vampire anatomy and Jason licking his arm when he fed. "Oh." He flushed, ducking his head further. How could he have forgotten? He could have hurt Jason!</p>
<p>"Hey, no, I'm not mad." Jason's fingers caught his chin and turned his face up so their eyes met. "You've never done this before, it's okay to make mistakes. We're gonna try again, and you'll remember this time, right?"</p>
<p>Tim <em>stared.</em> Jason wasn't mad? He was letting Tim try again? He nodded frantically. Yes, he could do better. "<em>Please,"</em> he murmured, desperately hoping Jason wouldn't think better of this.</p>
<p>But Jason bared his wrist again, and this time Tim licked it several times before he bared his fangs. He pulled back and poked at the skin, shooting a nervous glance at Jason. "Can't feel a thing," the older vampire said. "Go ahead."</p>
<p>Tim finally bit down, moaning when blood met his lips. He only barely remembered to pull his fangs out before he drank and drank and <em>drank—</em></p>
<p>Tim had never realized how <em>flat</em> the blood bags tasted. Jason's blood was <em>strong,</em> thick in a way the blood bags with their artificial thinners never had been. After weeks alone in the cage in the dark room, it was the strongest <em>good </em>sensation Tim could remember.</p>
<p>Tim didn't realize, but there were tears trailing down his cheeks.</p>
<p>Eventually, something made from silver tapped on his forehead. Tim flinched back, pulling away from the lovely blood. It was immediately covered up, which got him to keen pathetically. He was <em>still hungry.</em> Couldn't he have just a little more?”</p>
<p>"—back with me, baby bird?" someone was saying. Tim focused, trying to hear anything that wasn't the whisper of white gauze covering tender skin. "C'mon, Timmers…"</p>
<p>Tim knew that voice. He should listen to it. "Jason?"</p>
<p>"Yep. Feeling better?"</p>
<p>"I…" for the first time since he'd been locked up, Tim didn't feel like he might pounce the first person he saw."I'm… yeah, I am." He still wanted food, wanted <em>blood,</em> but he could go without. It was a new sensation.</p>
<p>"Bet you're still pretty hungry, though," Jason said. He tied off the bandage on his wrist and covered it back up with his glove. "Think you'd be okay drinking from Dick? He's outside worrying his spandex off, and he was pretty upset when you wouldn't drink from him."</p>
<p>Tim worried at his bottom lip, thinking hard. Dick was human, not vampire. If Tim drank too much, he could <em>die.</em> But Tim felt much more in control now than he had before he'd fed from Jason, and if Dick was offering… "If…" he licked his lips, thinking of fresh, warm, <em>human</em> blood. "If I lose it…"</p>
<p>"We'll stop you," Jason promised. "I don't think you're gonna, you're not hungry enough for that, but if you do, we'll make sure you don't hurt anyone."</p>
<p>"O-okay. If he's okay with it… I will."</p>
<p>"Awesome, he'll love that. And do you think B could start driving us back? Alfie really wants to check you over. Babs says he's been stress baking, which means you can have cookies with blood, which I can assure you is the actual best thing ever."</p>
<p>Cookies did sound good. Not as good as blood, but good. Tim nodded. He… "I want to go home." Home, with Jason and Dick and Bruce and Alfred.</p>
<p>That got him another tight hug from Jason. "Sure thing, baby bird. Let's go home."</p>
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<a name="section0003"><h2>3. A heat exchange</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Cuddles are had. Dick, Jason, and Bruce talk.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dick felt the familiar <em>tug tug tug</em> on the inside of his wrist slow to a stop. "All finished, Timmers?" he asked quietly.</p><p>There was no response. The soft breaths against his wrist were deep and even.</p><p>Dick chuckled. "Did you fall asleep while drinking, Tim? That's <em>adorable."</em> He carefully disentangled his fingers from Tim's and tucked the kid's head into his shoulder before starting to wrap his wrist.</p><p>On Tim's other side, Jason smothered a laugh. "Oh my god. He's <em>actually</em> asleep. That's so cute." He pulled out a phone and snapped a couple pictures.</p><p>"Let him rest, boys," came from up near the headboard. "He needs it."</p><p>"Yes, <em>Dad," </em>Jason muttered under his breath. He wrapped his arms tighter around Tim.</p><p>Dick could feel Bruce's shudder through the mattress. "…B?" Dick asked quietly. “Are you okay?”</p><p>"I'm fine," he muttered. He sounded choked up. Dick buried a smile in the crook of Tim's shoulder. Even if he was joking, Jason knew what that meant to Bruce.</p><p>Jason curled up slightly in the shadow cast by the windowsill. Tim had insisted on sleeping in the moonlight — he was quiet about it, but they thought Jack might have kept him in the dark. The brightness of the full lights was too much for him to sleep, so they had taken advantage of the rare clear night and Bruce's bay windows to help him feel as comfortable as possible. Dick had heard Jason mutter something about dimmer switches as he carried Tim into the bedroom and flopped down beside the kid. "B. Can I…" He stuttered, like he didn't know how to say what he needed to say.</p><p>"Anything." The word was quiet, and solid and sure as granite. Bruce meant it. Whatever Jason asked, he would give.</p><p>Dick felt like his heart might burst.</p><p>"Tim needed a lot," Jason admitted. "I don't know if his dad ever fed him, but if he did, it wasn't nearly enough. And I know I just fed a few days back" — they did know, the woman had been drained nearly dry and dropped on the GCPD's doorstep with a file folder full of evidence of what she'd done to the children in her care duct taped to her forehead — "but…"</p><p>Bruce tugged up the sleeve of his silk nightshirt. "Go ahead."</p><p>Ever since the Lazarus Pit, Jason's eyes glowed slightly green in low light. It made his confused blink and the furrow of his brow very easy to see. "I'm. I'm not. Are you sure?"</p><p>"Jay-lad," Bruce said softly, sadly. "I told you. I'll never let you go hungry if I can do something about it."</p><p>Jason turned his head towards the window and the moonlight. Both Bruce and Dick pretended not to notice the quiet sniffling sounds. Dick ducked his head into Tim's hair — still damp from a shower Dick had had to talk to him all through, so Tim wouldn't forget he was alone — so he wouldn't see Jason wiping at his eyes. "I can wait," he got out. "'d rather Tim get seen to first. Maybe he'll wake up needing more."</p><p>"I don't want any of my children to go hungry," Bruce said softly. "You know Alfred and Barbara will be happy to help if you or Tim needs more, but I'm here, and you're hungry."</p><p>There was a sound that was most <em>definitely</em> a choked-off sob. Jason scrubbed at his eyes again. Dick held his breath, hoping that Bruce hadn't pushed too hard, that Jason wouldn’t feel like it was charity and leave out of pride—</p><p>"I guess. If you're sure."</p><p>Even with Bruce's face cloaked by shadows, Dick could feel the warmth of his smile. He pulled Jason to him, the same way he had when Jason was a tiny twelve-year-old with fangs longer than his common sense. Dick cuddled Tim closer, humming softly to cover the sounds of Jason drinking. Tim burrowed into his chest at the vibration, which was <em>actually</em> the cutest thing ever, his heart was melting inside his chest.</p><p>Dick hugged Tim just the slightest bit closer. When Jason had been little, he'd curled up between Dick and Bruce to drink from both of them, letting their body heat sink into him from inside and out. Part of Dick felt the urge to take Tim and wrap him and Jay up like they used to, safe and warm and full. But Jason probably wouldn't appreciate that, not with the way he craved and rejected affection by turns. Dick would just have to settle for having one of his brothers in his arms.</p><p>For now.</p><p>It didn't take as long as Dick was expecting for Jason to be done drinking. He flopped forwards out of Bruce's arms to cuddle Tim. Bruce started wrapping his wrist. He'd never moved the gauze and tape he kept in his bedside drawer, apparently. "Feeling better, Jay?"</p><p>"Yeah." Jason tapped Tim's nose, watching it scrunch slightly and then smooth out. "He's really asleep, huh."</p><p>"He's had a rough few weeks. He probably wasn't getting any rest at all," Dick pointed out.</p><p>"Yeah, and good for him, but it <em>also</em> means that I can chew out Bruce a little," Jason snapped. His voice was still quiet, enough that it didn't risk waking Tim up. "You <em>paid</em> Jack Drake to get him out of there? What the fuck, Bruce?"</p><p>"Yes, I did."</p><p>Dick shot a startled look to Jason. They were both surprised and <em>furious.</em> He opened his mouth to rip into Bruce—</p><p>"Not that he'll ever be able to prove it."</p><p>"Huh?"</p><p>"Oracle's transaction was untraceable. When I ask her to reverse it, it'll be like it never happened. The only person who will testify that it happened is Jack Drake himself, and he won't even have the money to show for it. Just another criminal with a crazy story about the Bat. Everyone knows how the Bat feels about people who hurt kids. No one will ever believe him. We can get him in his home tomorrow night." Bruce tied off the tape on his wrist, not even needing to look. He dodged Jason and Dick's stares, looking into the moonlit garden below the window.</p><p>Dick whistled, low and impressed. "That's cold, Bruce."</p><p>"That was the fastest way to get Tim free. You didn't see him in there." Bruce took a deep breath in, let it out long and slow. "I am going to publicly destroy him in court. Everything Jack Drake has ever touched that Tim doesn't want, I'm going to <em>decimate</em>. I'll make sure he never sees the outside of a prison ever again." Bruce turned his head to meet Jason’s gaze squarely. "Is that acceptable?"</p><p>"…Will you let us help trash his stuff?"</p><p>"Of course."</p><p>"Then sure." Jason moved gently, so as not to wake the kid, when he slid his arms around his little brother. "As long as Tim's okay with it."</p><p>Dick moved so he could hug Jason too, just a little. Not much, his arms weren’t <em>that</em> long, but some. "Bruce. Do you know what happened to Tim, when his — when Jack Drake had him? I don't think he'll want to talk about it, but…"</p><p>Bruce took another of those long, calming breaths. "Starvation, which you already knew about, long-term external silver exposure, sensory deprivation… he was kept in a cage, handcuffed to it. And when he was taken to the auction… there was a silver muzzle."</p><p>Hands trapped between Tim and Dick's chests, Jason audibly cracked his knuckles.</p><p>"Don't do that, you might wake Tim up." Bruce kept up the long, slow breathing. Trying to contain his rage, probably. If he didn't think he had to be there, he would probably be in the gym beating up one of the training dummies. Dick kind of felt like heading there himself, except that Tim had explicitly asked not to be left alone. Tim never asked for anything, and that was <em>before</em> he'd been held captive for two weeks.</p><p>They sat in silence for a while longer. Dick petted Tim's hair when the kid began to stir, whimpering quietly, trying to calm him back down. He needed his rest. "Jason."</p><p>"Yeah, big bird?"</p><p>"Can you stay?" Dick thought about Tim's panic, the way he absolutely <em>would not </em>calm down until there was another vampire nearby. "I just… Tim needs you. He needs someone who knows how to… do things. Anything. Fuck, I don't…"</p><p>"I get it." Jason tilted his head back, watching the moonlight fall across their broken little family. "I can't promise much, but… I'll try."</p>
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